


different kisses

by iblankedonmyname



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Kisses, Love, M/M, POV Aziraphale, POV Crowley, POV First Person, Timeline, Timeline Shenanigans, Visions, angel and demon magic, celestial magic, throughout time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-24 05:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19717180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iblankedonmyname/pseuds/iblankedonmyname
Summary: Kissing, throughout history, changed connotations a lot. In the modern world, a kiss on the lips generally means sexual interest or intent, but like anything humans invented, it could be used as a joke, a goad, or a death sentence. Human gestures were lovely in that way. Completely indecipherable to anyone not familiar with the customs of the moment on Earth. This was how they got away with it.





	1. Ancient Rome

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't expect to write another Good Omens fanfic, but here we are. This one is a multichapter POV experiment about kissing. I wanted to explore character voice and celestial powers. I also liked the framework of the timeline. I tried to pick moments that weren't present in the show. There is some overlap. This is a lot of dabbling, but I hope you enjoy it regardless.
> 
> **Possible trigger: Mention of stalking.**

**Crowley**

I was in a very bad mood that day. Er, more like a bad decade. The whole “Jesus Christ’s, God’s son, sacrifice as a mercy for humans” left me feeling bitter. God supposedly made the rules, so why did she make such bogus stakes? Why kill your son? Why not let him live a full rewarding life? Why forgive the humans? They put him up there. Why not, I don’t know, forgive demons too, while you’re at it. One son’s death for everyone. That’s a fairer deal. Get more bang for your buck, in my opinion. 

I didn’t expect Aziraphale to approach me that day. I had a niggling suspicion that he was in Rome. He has always set up a home base. I get that it’s nice to have something familiar to come back to when you are out of town on work. Comfortable. At the time, I rather liked being listless and roaming. I had seen enough cities destroyed to not want to form too strong an attachment. Regardless he sprung over and cheerily greeted me. Asked it I was still a demon. Yes, for fuck’s sake, still a demon. What a way to make small talk. But then he cracked that joke, the joke about tempting me to oysters. Smart. Disarming. Hard to pass up. So we got the wine to go, and went to Patronus’s spot.

Oysters were strange. I had a hard time getting over how humans decided what was edible. Like what was their thought process? ‘This hard seashell is very difficult to open and inside is a slippery, wet live animal, and if we put it on a fire and add citrus, it tastes like a slippery wet dead animal with citrus. You can eat a bunch of them and never get full. We can waggle our eyebrows a lot about how reminscent they are to the female sex organ.’ Like what? I’d eat them again regardless. They really brought out the taste of the wine, and I had more wine than oysters. 

We talked a lot about the changing times. Politics in Rome were fraught, and there was lots of work for Aziraphale. I was moody throughout the whole encounter. At times, I was enjoying myself, but I would fall into introspection a little too quickly, like potholes in the road to Rome. (It was really, a great road, but maintenance was, eh, not so great.) At some point, he jolted up and asked about the time. Watches weren’t invented yet. He laughed, and miracled a stack of coins onto the table.

“Unfortunately, I must be going.” And then he slyly glanced at me, “Shall I kiss you goodbye?” Physical contact wasn’t really a thing we did, but I was intrigued. How could I not be? Would you say no to a handshake from your enemy? It sounded like a bit of fun drama, a future sitcom moment. Laugh track included.

So I said something like “Uh, yeah okay. Alright.” And he leaned over with this diabolical little smile, and kissed me. It wasn’t a peck on the lips. He touched the back of my neck and sunk into it. He had the nerve to pack the touch with the grace of God. 

This was a big deal. _I can’t stress enough that_ **_this was a big deal_ ** **.** Demons were denied God’s love, when we were cast out. Right. That was the worst part of being kicked out of heaven. Not having to work in the wet, leaking basement. Not having to do all the worst things on the planet from then on out. It was having this love that sustained our light snuffed out. It’s absence left a pit in every demon’s heart. This subtraction was supposed to drive us to evil, to hate, to madness. But whelp, some demons just learned to live with it, I guess. So the fact that Aziraphale, beautiful divine idiot that he is, decided to just give God’s love to a demon for a moment is fucking bonkers. It was insensitive to say the least, but more importantly, it was pretty blasphemous. The balls.

It was like finally breathing after thousands of years of holding a breath. When he went to pull away, I clung to him. My hands fisted in his toga. I was floating. Everything I had felt for centuries seemingly wiped clean like an abacus. Light flooded into all the empty missing broken spots in my essence. The bastard chuckled, unclenched my hands, and finished with a chaste kiss on the cheek. He sported the sauciest smile. I must have looked like a hot mess.

“Feeling better?” This fucking weapon walking the surface of the Earth asks.

It took a minute to find my voice. “That could’ve killed me.” Quite the opposite, I was absolutely remade. The fact that I had a voice and the lights were still on upstairs was an unnatural phenomenon. I should’ve been dense as a newborn lamb.

“Oh dear! I didn’t even consider that! Are you alright?” His panic was real, but I immediately missed his devious smile.

“I’m fine.” I croaked. “You should be getting on then.” 

His concern didn’t vanish as he stood. “Yes, I suppose you are right. Until next time!” And he left. As soon as he was gone, out into the night, I hunched over the table and gasped like a fish out of water. I stayed there until they kicked me out, assuming I was an unconscious drunk. In a way I was. I wandered Rome that night, keeping my eyes on the twinkling night sky until the sun came up in it’s paint brush strokes. God’s love stayed in my system for days. When it departed, I was so angry, I broke things. I left Rome in a hurry. I didn’t want to be anywhere near the place. As the days rolled on, my anger was replaced by awe.

The angel had successfully tempted me. I was very tempted. It was the first time someone had tried it since the fall. It hurt. It was a cruel joke. Sure, oh yeah, have the angel tempt the demon. An absolute riot. Definitely wins an Emmy in 2020. Every couple of minutes or hours I would obsessively seek his presence on the planet. At any given time, I had a clue where he was. I used this insight to avoid him like humans avoid a plague. This was the only time in our history I was scared of him. The fact that he could just hand out love like a party favor. That was too much. I wanted to be around him, but I was scared to be around him. I wasn’t sure what to call it, but I believe it was what humans call a _crush_ . Eventually, _the want_ to see him won over _the fear_ of seeing him. And I started to follow him around. I believe this is what humans call _stalking_. 


	2. Saint-Germain-en-Laye

**Crowley**

It was slow progress to convince Aziraphale to work with me, but he had many weaknesses. It was easier to get him to lower his barriers if you caught him off hours. If you offered him a clean pillow to sit on and something tasty to eat somewhere warm and quiet. These things were hard to come by in the dark ages. Everything was filthy and loud and cold. Stone cut oats with water for _flavor_ , yippee. Beer and wine were decent if you knew who to visit. Sometimes castles in the countryside would have successfully hunted a boar and made spiced sausage. Even if at the end of the night, he’d dismissed my idea, at least I had spent hours steeping in his presence.

I don’t know what happened in 1020. Maybe I had just worn him down. Doubtful that, he’s amazingly headstrong. Maybe he had the good sense of a gossip to know hundreds of years of holy wars were around the corner. He hadn’t the stomach for bloodshed. I’d seen it before. All those floating bodies after the flood turned him quite green and took him below the Ark’s decks until he delivered the olive branch weeks later. However, in year 1020, I encountered him in France, following King Robert II the Pious around. He hailed me cheerily on foot dressed as a high prestige knight. He scanned my clothing without any subtlety, and invited me to a party at the King’s castle. He was in high spirits that night, and that’s saying a lot given how dismally boring this moment was in history. 

“How goes the tempting?” Conversational. Aziraphale swirled his goblet.

“Decently. Finally us demons have clear categories for sins. It’s made things a lot easier. Now I just check a box on a form instead of writing a summary. Oop this one is Pride. Check. But that one, that one is Wrath. Check. Bip bap boop. Saves me a lot of time, that.”

“What happens if it’s not obvious?” 

“Well uh. Best not to make it confusing. Nobody likes that. Those kinds of mushy moral grounds get you called into the office.”

“Thankfully heaven has been pretty clear about virtues for a very, very long time. Check boxes were the height of sophistication for Heaven in the BCs. Nice to hear Hell has caught up.”

Crowley snorted mockingly. “What happens if it’s not obvious?”

Aziraphale didn’t take the bait. “Then we have the ten commandments to fall back on, my dear.” He glances conspiratorially at me a moment and then scans the room. Apparently satisfied, he whispers, “Could you tell me a little more about your idea?”

A thousand years later I can still feel the thrill of this question. I must’ve swallowed an excited cackle. My sweet, perfect angel finally too curious to resist. I couldn’t be sure if angels did sin. It wasn’t like I could sense anything past his divine barriers, but I thought about all the boxes I could check off on this temptation if I were to file an official report. Sloth was checked. Maybe even Greed. On an unofficial report, the one in my head, I would only admit to moments before sleep, I checked other boxes too.

The evening slipped by. Late into the night, the king had retired. Now, early in the morning, a few toasted drunks stumbled around dancing to the remaining, exhausted lute player. Some were passed out on cushions, and others, like Aziraphale and me, were clustered in groups talking in hushed voices. We had collected a few jugs of wine for ourselves since the servants were dropping off to sleep at their posts or had slipped off altogether. At this point it was a lively conversation. Aziraphale had agreed to a set of simple conditions. The tops of his cheeks were flushed and he was beaming with light. I couldn’t take my eyes away from his delight. It bled into me.

I drunkenly stood to bow with an arm flourish. “We should seal this pack with a kiss, oh Sir knight.” I was deep into my cups at that point, but the evening had gone so well. My goal for the last 600 years was achieved. I was rolling high. I didn’t want it to end.

“Verily, dark knight, Sir! Yes, I heartily agree!” He reached up giggling and gripped the jewelled collar of my tunic. I kneeled to his tugging and pressed my lips to his. 

He didn’t load this one with God’s love. In retrospect, one thousand years was a long time for him to reconsider that brilliant idea. I had chastised him after it too. Probably shouldn’t have done that. Despite the absence, I slipped into the kiss with fervor. It was seductive. There was some kind of love there, but it was different. It still filled all the empty spots in me, but it was gentle like a heartbeat, like a butterfly’s wings fluttering over a big, light-filled meadow. God’s love was so bright it burned. This healed me with something softer.

I broke the kiss. We had fallen over. This time I felt embarrassed. Human culture can slowly contaminate anyone, immortal or not, and this was a kiss to be embarrassed about. Aziraphale’s eyes were wide. From on the ground, he tilted his head. I peeled off of him and nervously glanced around the room. An odd reaction, no one can notice a demon without being allowed to notice them first. 

Aziraphale propped himself up on his elbows. “What was that?”

I didn’t want to look at him. “A kiss that seals an important deal. The better the kiss, the better the seal, right?”

“I suppose that follows.” He tugs at his own collar. “I haven’t witnessed many contractual kisses.” I stood to leave. “Excuse me! You’re leaving? We still have wine to drink.”

I forced myself sober. The mouth always tasted like dirt aftward. Some things don’t change. “Naw, I’m done. Think I’ll take a nap. Good talk.” I had turned to leave but I couldn’t resist looking back. He was shocked, but with his mussed, bed-head hair, he looked ravished. “See you soon, angel.” 

“You sleep?!” His surprise echoed behind me as I left.

* * *

**Aziraphale**

This kiss shook me. It was reminiscent of the one in Rome, but the difference in this encounter, was Crowley. The goodbye kiss obviously shocked him. He was right of course. It could’ve blown him to pieces. Angels and demons don’t interact much obviously, so I was ignorant to the possible consequences. My idea was utter garbage. Despite my idiocy, he seemed to have recovered quickly from that faux pas. Only a few decades later he popped up again and had been for almost a thousand years. It astounds me that demons wander around clearly wounded, and I, an angel, a bearer of what could heal them, am forbidden to aid them. Way back when I met Crowley, I decided I wouldn’t just stand there and witness his pain. No one in heaven is ever going to examine a demon too closely, while demons can’t even see the presence of love. Tossing bits of angelic goodness into a yawning pit wasn’t going to seal the hole, but it would feed the ducks. If...if that makes any sense whatsoever.

I didn’t give him God’s grace for this binding kiss. I left it out entirely, but the touch was still...electric? There was something behind it. It befuddled me. I didn’t sleep, so once he left, I sobered up and wandered the castle. The stones radiated cold despite the drapes of wall coverings and carpets. Fires were burning low everywhere. Although it was cool, my skin was hyper-warm. I was absently stroking my lip with my fingers when I wandered into the castle’s small chapel. This was the coldest place I’d entered that night, without tapestries or fireplaces, and it was like dowsing my head in ice water. This room sobered me again.

It occurred to me then that, like the kiss at Patronus’s, we exchanged something. However, this time he had given me something. When I sorted through all the components of myself, I found the tiniest nibbles of sins. I couldn’t name them individually. Sins aren’t my specialty, but when my essence held them, all kinds of new tasty feelings rushed my system. Some felt familiar, like I’d been testing these concepts already. I forgave myself for these transgressions, Earth was a battleground after all. I was doing my best and an angel’s best is as good as anyone can achieve. This is what I thought anyway.

One of the crumbs, made me sensitive and needy. It felt like a craving. I could now recognize a craving. Thrilling! Just so thrilling! But another of the crumbs was all-together bizarre knowing who had given me these sensations. Bizarre, not because it was foreign, but because it was love. It was like the distant and constant twinkle of a star in the night sky, an ember from a shifted log floating up away from the fire. At the time I wondered where Crowley had got this pebble of love, and why he had hidden it in a bundle that he haphazardly hustled to me. A demon? With love? It was laughable.

I knew that I should probably discard this tiny collection. I snapped back out into my corporeal body sitting coldly in the chapel. The frigid air had seeped into my bones. I must’ve sat there for hours. I shivered and bundled my cloak tighter. It was time for me to stoke a fire and get warm, so I departed back to a guest hall. I wasn’t going to bin a present, no matter who gave it to me. Part of my duty as an angel was humility, and thankfully, curiosity was not a sin.


	3. Florence

**Aziraphale**

The brutality of the Holy Wars stretched for hundreds of years, much to my chagrin. I relied heavily on the newly created Arrangement. We split our time in the Middle East mostly 50/50. He might have taken on a few extra if we sat down and did the math. I was relieved that I had any foresight at all to finally agree to his proposal, as the middle ages stretched painfully long, and strained even my inordinate patience despite doing half as much work as per the norm. When it finally ended, the humans had somehow collected all their damaged lives and launched themselves into a period of marvelous invention. Humans are really capable of so much. It was astonishing. The Renaissance was a triumph.

I was returned to Italy for the foreseeable future, but then so was Crowley. It was unspoken, but it seemed neither of us wanted to miss this. I reported to Heaven to give a full report of the Holy Wars and to receive my goals for the Renaissance. Despite my nerves, Gabriel and the others seemed to accept my summary. I schooled myself beforehand on what to say and what to leave out. Everything was going well until the end when Gabriel conclude our meeting. “It sounds like you did a good job representing the Lord against those heathens. Inspiring the right people to exterminate the wrong ones. All-in-all you deserve something for that work, and I’ll see to it to report up the chain.” I sighed in relief before Gabriel continued on, “By the way, what’s the demon Crowley up to? You barely mentioned him.”

The chill of Heaven couldn’t cool my sudden sweat. “The demon Crowley? Wiley as ever. He was there too of course. Er...fomenting. I don’t have specifics. There was a lot going on.”

“Understandable, understandable, but you are a cosmic being, surely you can be more overarching in your awareness, right? Try harder. Besides, we need to keep a more thorough eye on him. We had an incident that happened years and years ago but it just reached my department, in which a lesser demon and angel were found to be working in parallel. The demon has now been destroyed. The unforgivable themselves can’t forgive. If you notice the demon Crowley preying on any impressionable celestials, please alert us immediately. The policy has been updated in your employee handbook.” Gabriel’s grin didn’t reach his eyes.

My internal mantra was ‘just don’t panic, just don’t panic.’ It was amazing I still had a voice. “Oh I see.” I swallowed shakily, “but may I ask a question?”

Gabriel raised a brow. “I guess, shoot.”

“I bet that nasty demon really deserved to be disintegrated, or whatever Hell did, but uh…” I gulped, “What happened to the angel?”

Gabriel frowned with a surprised shake of the head. “The angel is fine, Aziraphale. We are the good guys. We forgive. Demons tempt and lead the flock astray. Demons punish. Duh.” He scanned me suspiciously with his purple eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay working down on Earth? Maybe it’s time you come back soon?”

“Oh no! What?” I was in mental anguish, torn between relieved and absolutely horrified. “No, I need to stay down on Earth and uh, keep an eye on that big ol’ serpent. Not a job everyone can do. It’s a real challenge, but someone has got to do it.” I hoped my smile was more sincere than Gabriel’s.

“Sure...You’re dismissed.” And with that our meeting was concluded, and I returned to Earth dumbstruck. There was always a chance of our arrangement being found out, but I didn’t consider what was at stake. I also didn’t want to rush out and tell Crowley. After all, the information was also to my detriment. I was consorting with the enemy, and he could be killed.

Besides, there was work to get cracking on. Italy was very Catholic now, which gave me several facets to influence, and I didn’t want to get distracted by my adversary. But it was impossible not to run into him. We were going after the same artists, the same writers, the same innovators, well... different clergy but regardless, inevitably, we’d bump into each other. 

In Florence around this time, it was common for men to kiss cheeks in greeting. I had been doing it so often with the humans, it hardly registered as odd when at a party, I embraced him in this way. He must’ve been surprised because that familiar vision of embers spiraling into the night seeped out of him. Love. I was a little stunned. It confirmed that the pebble of love I got in France was of his own making. 

Maybe he didn’t realize, but he chuckled and looked at me smugly over his glasses. “How goes it then? Enjoying this” He gestured to the room with a glass in hand “...well everything? Lots has changed since the wars.”

“It’s stupendous! Did you know in the last hundred years a German man invented a way to mass produce books? Oh my! It’s absolutely life changing. The good that humans can do. It’s...it’s...frankly it’s astonishing looking at how bad everything was not that long ago.” 

“Mmm yessss, I’m rather pleased too. Not really about the books, but the style is infinitely better. The wine is too. Hey, have you met Leonardo da Vinci, I can introduce you two.”

“Well actually,” I fiddled with my sleeve cuff, “I wanted to speak to you about something.”

“Oh?”

“Do you think it might be wise to call off the Arrangement? I mean, we aren’t using it right now, and...”

“Whaaat? No! Why? It’s been working so well. It’s just there’s no point sharing work when work is so fun right now! I’m living! Satan, do you remember the 14th century? Absolute bore. This is way better.”

“Well, it’s just...If Hell ever found out.” I was so concerned from my conversation with Gabriel. It was honestly the only thing I wanted to talk about with Crowley.

“Hell won’t find out. We just went through 400 years of  _ literal Holy Wars _ , and not a peep of suspicion. We are in the clear!” He was leaning in close conspiratorially. “Now what is this really about?”

“No! No. Look, you could be killed for this.” I gestured back and forth between him and me. I had to impress on him that his life was at risk.

He peeled away from me to look at me, snake-like. It took a second but, “I’m not worried about it. Now how about we turn that frown upside down and I get you a drink. Come on! You can meet my friend.”

I sighed, but consented to a drink at least. Leonardo was charming. I remember seeing many rough sketches and finished pieces of Crowley in various stages of undress appear in the next couple of decades. I don’t know if those pieces are still in existence today or what collector has them. My preference was always Raphael of the masters. We were good friends and he painted a rather fetching portrait of me I still have.

As for Crowley, the next time I ran into him, he initiated the cheek kiss. There was no astral exchange to this contact. It just felt normal. He was a little warmer than a human and smelled like deviousness.

Outside of work, the Renaissance was everything I hoped that the human world could become. Every Earthly delight was improved. Art, writing, food and drink, architecture, and fashion were all sumptuous. There was suddenly printed books! Literature! I couldn’t stop buying things; crates of wine, shelves and shelves of books, art. If I could spend money on it, chances are good I bought it. Everything was so quality. You could see the grain, the gold stitches, the layers of puff pastry, the legs on the glass. It was lovely. The only downside, I was very worried about Crowley. That fear shadowed every interaction we had for hundreds of years.


	4. St. James Park

**Crowley**

When Aziraphale got back from Edinburgh, he immediately sought me out. That felt nice. We met at a popular spectacle of the moment, watching the animals get carted into the almost finished St. James’s Park. That day it was an Elephant, which we both hadn’t seen since the Ark. People were patting the beast through the bars as it passed down the street. Pride swelled like a sticky lava of molasses. Seeing it’s sad, wise eyes as people prodded at it made both of us slip down an alley away from the crowd.

“So Hamlet.” He avoided a puddle on the cobbles. “Did you do all that?”

“It wasn’t entirely me. I just miracled one sold out show. People, like always, took it from there.” I glanced over at him over my glasses.

He hummed. “Oh yes, It is a very good play. I’m glad it’s being recognized. By the way, I brought you a gift back from Scotland.” And from out of a drawstring bag he produced a clay jug. “It’s aqua vitae. Strong stuff. Have you had it?”

I took it from him gingerly as if the dense vessel was fragile. “Hmm, I’ve only heard of it.” I tried to decode his open expression. Sometimes it’s easy, but other times there is a bit too much going on. My chest was suddenly doing a weird shuddering thing. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Oh, I know, but I got two bottles from the Friar. So one for me, one for you.” This struck me as too nonchalant. 

“Well, why not come back to my flat for a tipple, hmm?” Behind my glasses, my eyes were boring into his. He didn’t notice of course. This would have been the first time we went somewhere truly private, if he had said yes. I didn’t know it would be several hundred years later before he finally accepted one of my offers, but I like to think this makes me a bit of an edgelord.

His mouth dropped open. I smirked. It was cute. “No no. No! What are you thinking? That’s not a good idea at all!”

I shrugged. “What’s to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth’s a stuff will not endure.” It was funny because what is “seize the day” to a pair of immortals.

“Ah.” He tutted despite his reddened face. His literary sense had clicked on. “These violent delights have violent ends. And in their triumph die, like fire and powder. Which as they kiss, consume.”

“I don’t..? I don’t think I saw that one.” I swallowed dryly. I was suddenly all the way back in Rome receiving that first alarming, destructive kiss.

“Oh? I’m sorry, but it’s a gloomy one.” His blush had gone and was replaced by an intense sharpness. He appeared perturbed, but something more was there. It was unreadable. He looked up at me. “Quoting Shakespeare in everyday conversation is bad form though isn’t it?

To that I laughed and miracled open the jug of aqua vitae. We each took a sip, only to nash our teeth and wince. Humans and their weird inventions still surprise me. We drank quite a bit of it, lips sharing the same crude spout, hands brushing. 

At some point into our mutual drinking, we both held the bottle a bit too long, and a jolt of feeling shot into me from Aziraphale, warm like a light-filled meadow. A flower blooming high above the grass. A bee covered in pollen, bouncing and buzzing. A soft, hushing wind blows waves into a hillside. There were children in this field playing a game. There was some fear, a childish kind, afraid of discovery, but also joy and adventure. 

If Aziraphale also didn’t have a firm grasp on the jug, it would’ve been shattered to pieces on the cobble. I had pulled away abruptly. My heart was pounding. He was puzzled. “Are you alright?”

I stuttered, “Yes, absolutely. This is strong stuff!” Internally I was freaking out. It was the most complete sharing of affection and friendship I had ever received from the angel. It wasn’t just a crumb of love. It was like a whole pie. I wanted to immediately bolt, but reigned in my fears. 

The afternoon floated by, but we didn’t touch again.


	5. Portland Place

**Crowley**

The word “fraternizing” still burns me. He just couldn’t see past this ridiculous hierarchy. We had the same shitty job, the same shitty bosses. We had the same abilities, and yet,  _ fraternizing _ . The only difference between us that I could see was God  _ still  _ loved him. I didn’t want him to fall or anything like that. I might be selfish, but there is not a bone in my body that would see him punished like that. But he had the nastiest superiority complex about being God’s representative. If he had heard me out, instead of departing (directly into an ornamental tree, love that) we could have had a really nice time during the turn of the century together. But no. Nope. 80 years of fights instead.

For example, when I learned he started going the Hundred Guineas Club, I had to drop in on him. I had convinced myself it would be like a rescue ala French Revolution, but in reality, I was just painfully curious and lonely. Without his relatively consistent presence and his little trickle of angelic being, all the sharp edges in my essence were starting to cut again. I miracled up some duds and went out.

Holy hell, it was a hotbed of Lust. The scent of “coveting” radiated out as torrid waves that sizzled the hairs in my nostrils. It’s a riot Angels can’t sense that. It’d be a lot easier to do both our jobs if we had, well, the good sense to sense...the opposite thing, whatever. I’m lost. I went in. Aziraphale was there after all. I expected some real debauchery, but my expectations didn’t really consider the angel’s character. I was wrong and that was nice.

He was a pretty good dancer. His spirit was completely invested in it. I hung back in the darkness, but he was absolutely enchanting with his sparkle and smiles. I wasn’t the only person that noticed this either. If drooling was a sound, it would’ve drowned out the music. I was in turmoil. I follow simple rules. Top of that list is let Aziraphale do whatever he wants if it makes him happy. Second to that list is do whatever Aziraphale wants if it makes him happy. But I wasn’t happy. He was just  _ fraternizing _ all over now wasn’t he? I made a spur-of-the-moment decision and froze time. The music snaps quiet. The jolt sends Aziraphale stumbling from his grip on a dance partner’s elbow. He’s on alert faster than a blink “Crowley! What are you doing here!? Unfreeze time!”

“I don’t think so. We need to chat.”

“About what?” He responded cooly.

“Do you know where you are?”

I didn’t know he could frown like that. “Yes.”

I scoffed. “Do you know what they do here?”

“Yes, they teach dancing.” He smiled extravagantly. It came off as fake. “And it’s very fun, and I’m very good at it.”

“Yes, I can see that.” I was stuck. That turmoil between my rules and my feelings was back with a force.

“Well since you are here and the club is frozen in time, I could teach you to dance.” 

It was an olive branch, but I was still angry. I didn’t want to learn how to dance. “Pfft. I can already dance.”

“Oh really? The gavotte? Show me then.” 

“Haaa, well not the gavotte, but.” I stride out onto the floor and started to wiggle convincingly. I spun on my toes. I think it was swan-like.

“What. Is. That?” 

“Dancing! I saw the Russian ballet recently.”

“That is not even a close approximation to a ballet and you know it!” He stomped his foot. “Why are you even here if you aren’t going to take this seriously?”

“I thought this was supposed to be fun? Your words, not mine.”

He made a long whine through his teeth. “Will you at least let me teach you?” 

After numerous attempts and lots of lame sashaying, I was no closer to gavotting then before. However, I was indeed having a good time. It was rejuvenating to feel the gentle pressure of Aziraphale’s hands on me and to touch him back. The strange moments when we, as partners, kiss spiked the body’s heart rate, but nothing else was shared. I’m sure my flustered state only made it harder to focus on what was supposed to happen next. It was a very complex dance. I was impressed that he had got so good at it. Sometime into practicing and making zero headway, he pulled from our latest kiss and whispered wryly. “You are absolutely a hopeless dancer”

“It would help if we had some music” I gestured angrily to the frozen band.

“Fine. Unfreeze the whole place why don’t you. You can watch me dance with a bunch of humans that know what they are doing.”

“Not likely.” I snapped.

His face dropped. “Oh? Not staying then?”

“You do know this is practically a brothel? Imagine explaining to Heaven why you were imprisoned for indecency if any one ever breaks this place up.” That was a weird thing for a demon to say.

“Hmph. Everyone here is so friendly. I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“Angels don’t dance, angel.” I’ve never weaponized his pet name. It sounded ugly. I wanted to clean my own mouth out with soap.

His face pinched. “You should leave.”

I was no longer having a good time. I snapped my fingers and the club spun back into lively action. I was never a vengeful demon but I knew that what I just said to Aziraphale was for the soul purpose of taking a swing at him. I left. I have rarely felt so disgusted in myself. There were no crumbs of love for me that night. I couldn’t stop digging myself into this hole I had created. I really really wanted to show up, sashay him out of there, and say, maybe over some wine, “I miss you. I’m sorry I asked about holy water. Can we just go back to what it was like before?” But that wasn’t going to happen for a long while. We were both so royally steamed. 


	6. Around London

**Crowley**

During our fight, I was as busy as ever, but there was little else in my life. I slept more. I drank more. I went to visit America. I took responsibility for a lot of trouble. If a crime could be pinned on someone, I’d make an effort to get my name pinned. What does a demon care for warrants or detectives? Well, little. I built a fearful reputation among humans and among Hell. Hell thought World War II was all me. As if. I’m creative but I’m not Machavellian. Not bad for a name I invented in the Renaissance to easily recognize spam mail in the post. In reality, I spent most of that time far away from London in bars filled with smoke and Jazz, napping. Or watching Buster Keeton and Charlie Chaplin movies in 24 hour theaters. Things weren’t all bad though. I bought a car. 

World War II rolled around and I’d had it with the separation. I knew one trick that would always capture Aziraphale’s attention and that was a dramatic rescue. He hadn’t been slipping up much as late, but I kept my ear to the ground. The nazi’s were a God send...er. I mean, they weren’t from Hell either. It was bollocks that the rendezvous was in a church, but what did I have to lose? My feet? My life? Bah. It went really well. He wasn’t mad a me anymore. I saved his books and took him back to his bookshop in the Bentley. He had this glittery, wistful look in his eyes this whole time. I’d never noticed that before. What do they say? Distance makes the heart grow fonder. I nailed this interaction is what I’m saying.

Months later I saw Casablanca in the theater. I liked Humphrey Bogart before for the Maltese Falcon, but this performance was shattering. There was something so familiar about how Ilsa looked at Humphrey’s character, Rick Blaine. Her eyes had this glittery, wistful look to them. Glistening. A little bit desperate. It affected me. It did something weird to my guts. After numerous viewings, the dots connected. I didn’t want to admit it at first. I didn’t want to consider Aziraphale having similar feelings as me. It had the possibility of going really really badly. I shook it off the best I could. We were friends. We’d be friends forever. And that was the stance I took.

* * *

**Aziraphale**

I followed him out of the church rubble. The ground was uneven but I felt like I was barely touching the ground. It was a strange feeling to be a being crafted in Love, surrounded by Love, nurtured and healed by Love, and then casually, just-recognizing clumsily that I was in love. That all the Love was just a distraction from the love right inside me. This love  _ I _ made, kept, and nurtured. 

I made it out of the debris to the street, to the object of my affection opening a door for me, to a dark batwing of a combustion engine carriage. It was one of the more impressive versions I’d seen up to that point. He clicked the door shut once I had settled. I pressed the bag to my chest like a shield between my own thudding heart and the world outside. When he slid into the driver’s seat, his glee crackling out was palpable. It was so fitting a demon born of fire loved riding a controlled explosion with a rich and unseen-before intensity. To be honest, I might have been a bit jealous. I had just come into this big epiphany and he was lavishing his affections on an inanimate object. 

“When do you get this motorized vehicle?” I wiggled into my seat attempting to comfort myself.

“It’s a car, angel. A very expensive car. A Bentley. I got it about 6 years ago.” He sped on. “Where am I taking you?”

The question rang oddly in my emotional state. It seemed like a question with flexible context. “Oh! just the bookshop is fine.” Outside the window London was burning. Air raid sirens were howling. If I was outside, I’d be feeling waves of horror, instead I was traveling too fast in the most tightly-packed bubble of ardor. I looked back at Crowley. He appeared none-the-wiser. “About the last 80 or so years…” I ventured. He glanced at me at that. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.” He smiled a bit at the end. My heart throbbed. There wasn’t much else to say. Too quickly, we arrived at the bookstore to my misfortune, or fortune, I couldn’t tell. The city’s wave of despair struck me as I opened the Bentley’s door. The bubble had popped. I stepped to the curb, and surprisingly Crowley got out of the car to approach me. He gestured to the burning city, “Didn’t the humans go through all this less than 30 years ago?”

“Short memories?” I suggested.

“Bloody short.”

His lapel was flipped, so while frowning, I reached out and smoothed it down. Given my recent enlightenment, this felt far too intimate. I glimpsed at his face. His glasses were too dark to see the shine of his eyes, but his lips were curved up and I wanted to kiss them. It could have been a simple thing. I could have deflected if it surprised him. We had kissed a few times before. But I wanted this kiss to mean “thank you for everything. Thank you for being the only person in the world to seemingly care about me and my idiosyncrasies.” But I knew if I kissed him in that way, he would be in danger. We didn’t tell each other thank you. Yes, this was far too intimate. I removed my hand from his shoulder and clutched it to my chest. “Crowley? Er..Anthony?”

“Yes angel.”

“Please do me the favor of getting home safe tonight. Don’t get discorporated by any of your rerouted bombs, will you?” I was fading away. This was too much.

He smiled. Touched the tip of his finger to his hat as a farewell. “Of course. Always. Never one for paperwork.” He sauntered away, but from the driver’s side he called back “Oh, and Aziraphale, I can be just Crowley to you.” And he was gone in his flash new automobile.

“Okay, Crowley.” I whimpered from the curb as the car departed. I went inside slowly. I had barely unpacked the books from the satchel before the tears came. I was sure I loved you, but I was also sure I could never be open about it. I knew he did too. I had all those splinters of love he’d given me throughout the years after all. I’m not sure he realized it though. Despite these considerations, it was irrelevant. It wasn’t a conversation we could have. We’d have to be free of heaven and hell to even process the possibility of what that meant. In retrospect, it was very convenient for me that a time like that was only sixty years away.


	7. London Bridge

**Aziraphale**

It was a cold New Years night, but regardless, it was a clear one. We ascended London Bridge to sit on the turret edge of a tower. It was the winter after the almost-pocalypse, and while we had seen human celebrations throughout time, we’d never sat down together purposely to watch Fireworks. I bought a thermos of cocoa and biscuits and he brought some rye whiskey from the Americas. We settled under a blanket and sipped our spiked cocoa with relish. 

The fireworks were a very nice spectacle, but a bit short lived.

I was feeling quite nice, so under the blanket, I slipped my hand into Crowley’s. We had been doing this more and more often. It was a very human thing to do, but with corporeal bodies, physical contact was easier than say shedding our vessels to touch on the celestial plane. Not that we couldn’t do that, but neither of us were really sure what would happen, and without heaven and hell likely to reissue us bodies in the event of an accident, it was an unnecessary risk. Besides there was still plenty we could do from within our human bodies to express how much we enjoyed each other’s company. Hand holding was just an intention after all, so I channeled into him an unrestrained dose of my personal love for him.

He made a sharp noise, but he didn’t let go of my hand. Instead his head settled abruptly on my shoulder. The connection was still live. He spoke with a shudder a few minutes later. “Is this going to be the norm between us now?” 

I squeezed his hand. “Do you want it to be?”

“Er, yes, absolutely.”

I was so pleased. I felt it was time to let him know. “You could share the same thing back, you know.”

I swear I could feel his smirk on my shoulder. He bombarded me with the most torrid and heated desires, filth that I had hardly seen the likes of in modern romance novels. Now it was my turn to shudder, oddly burdened with arousal, but I also laughed. “Treacherous serpent. I meant love, not lust.”

The sensations stopped abruptly, and then after another long pause, Crowley whispers. “I don’t remember how to do that.”

“Oh but you do. Maybe you haven’t realized it, but you’ve been doing it subconsciously a long time.” 

“I have?”

“Well, yes. Here, this is one of your’s.” I shared a cherished memory that had come from the 1600s. It was a vision of a kitchen hearth filled with baking bread and a toddler playing in soot. It was one of the more complicated feelings I’d received from Crowley. It felt like vitality, like the safety of the home, and chosen family.

He spoke as if congested, “Oh. So it is.”

“Would you like to see the others?”

He wheezed weakly, and after a pause a small, “yes.”

So I shared them over our connection. He went quiet for a long time then. I was almost convinced he had fallen asleep, lulled by the connection. Meanwhile, I watched the sky over the haze. There weren’t too many stars shining with all the light pollution. I altered that issue with a small miracle and the stars showed clearer. I watched them in silence, sipping my cocoa and sending devotion and care into Crowley. 

Eventually, he stirred a bit and over the connection poured, obviously not God’s light, but the warm sands of a desert at dusk. The sky was dark and red with a thin crescent moon. The stars were coming out like a curtain falling. A fire was lit. Embers floated into the air in a swirl. Distant music swelled and the smell of cooking meat wafted. From inside the sensation, I knew that although I had wandered a ways away, I had people who cared about me waiting for my return at the fire but I could decide when. There was an overwhelming sense of trust and understanding.

On London Bridge, in my relaxation, I had settled my lips against Crowley’s hair. Every breath in was filled with him. 

“Do we even have a subconscious?” He posited. I felt his voice reverberating into my chest.

I chuckled and scooped up his face from my shoulder. He didn’t wear glasses as much around me anymore much to my enjoyment. It was easier now to know when he was tenderhearted. I kissed him full on the lips in a slow and deliberate fashion. At first he stiffens, clearly shocked, but then melts into me, breaking the connection through the hand to kiss back. Another exceptionally delayed round of fireworks go off. I could hear them and see the colors reflecting on Crowley’s profile, but why stop this kiss to watch something so fleeting. “Lovely,” was all I said into the corner of his lips.


	8. South Downs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp this was a departure, both in style, and outcome. I wanted to write a chapter that was psychedelic and changed perspective midway through. I hope you can make out who is talking. So that concludes my experiment. Please enjoy.

After the not-pocalypse, I found it harder to be apart from Aziraphale. There was a fear there. Well, naturally, we would’ve been crazy to not be fearful. At any point, our bosses could reappear, angrier than before, wielding hellfire or holy water, and catch us with our pants down, separated. Exposed. Alone. I wasn’t a fan of this scenario. But I’d like to think, we also enjoyed each other’s company quite a lot, and we were loathe to just go our separate ways like we had to in the past. There just wasn’t a reason to leave. It was a few years into our never-ending meet up of dinners and drinks and ‘patisseries’, before Aziraphale suggested we move into a house together, somewhere more remote. (Not that the cottage doesn’t have doors that lead directly back to the London flat and the bookshop, but I’m not going to nitpick this to death.) He said it’d be easier to keep an eye on each other. It would be a better space for the two of us, he said. I liked this idea very much. Until we had to decorate, but that is an entirely different story. His love of gingham is borderline insane.

Years into living together and sharing a bed, I woke up in the middle of the night. It wasn’t like I had a bad dream or anything of the sort. I just woke up. Eyes alert. I looked over to see Aziraphale, tucked into the blankets, facing me. It hadn’t taken much to get Aziraphale to start attempting to sleep. He’s not often successful, and like an insomniac, will spend hours into the night pouring over a book with a bedside light on. This night was not one of those nights. The light was off and he was resting peacefully, mouth open and drooling. Absolutely charming. Outside of consideration, I was moved to touch him, so I curled a hand up over his hip. Sadly he stirred. His eyes opened and he wiped the spittle from the edges of his mouth, “Morning?” He murmured.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“Mmm, it’s quite alright, dear.” Under the covers his hand reached for my hip, mirroring my own. He yawned. “I just had the weirdest dream.”

“Oh?” 

“Have you ever thought…” He was hazy with sleep, “seeing each other without our bodies?” It was little more than a whisper.

I frowned, “well yes, but…” There were many times I wanted to just be rid of my body. I could change it any which way I wanted except for a few details, such as my eyes, but it always felt like I was interacting with Aziraphale through a kitchen mitt, a garden glove. It was still better to touch something than nothing at all. I continued on, “but we don’t know what will happen. Our bodies could get destroyed? Remember? I’d rather not end up in the line to get a replacement, given my status as renegade. You feel the same?”

“But what if they don’t.” Aziraphale was constantly surprising after he chose our side over Heaven’s. His anxieties had shifted from whether or not he was doing the right thing to ‘which gingham color is best for drapes’, much to my joy and chagrin. His eyes were bright and clear now, free of sleep.

“Well,” I couldn’t squash his enthusiasm. I wanted to try it too after all, so I leaned long across the pillows and kissed him like an invitation. “I guess why not. Only live once, right? No matter how long.” The quote from Twelfth Night flitted through my brain from all those centuries prior. A bottle passed between brushing hands.

It didn’t take much to relocate, easier than falling asleep. Moving to the celestial plane and shedding our corporeal forms is second nature to an angel and demon. It’s easier than inhabiting a vessel that you have to breathe for, pump blood for, for six thousand years.

Seeing each other, free of distractions was worth the risk. Aziraphale was...well...beyond description. Angels in essence are good things, good feelings, but frightening and raw in their obscene power. I could say he was a sequence of lit rings, spirally like mobius strips rippling through dimensions, but that doesn’t encompass what he is in this form. In this state, a mortal would throw their mind to the wind and simply un-process. It is beyond sublime. Love, birds flying, soft touches, a warm square of light on the floor, the safety of a roof, are just some of the things he exudes constantly, throbbingly, freed from his human body.

Touch doesn’t mean much in this form either. Touch is a sense specific to having a body, having an epidermis, the presence of receptors, nerves. When I say we touched, it means we consciously lowered all the barriers that keep us from spilling out into the makeup of the universe. Angels and demons live in cages of our own construction so we can exist in a solid state, the ice one, not the liquid or gas ones. Otherwise we are but particles floating among electrons. Now with the cage doors thrown open, we intercepted each other. We overlapped. Encroached on one another. The pieces of ourselves penetrated. Angelic life blood for demonic swapping like joinings of a glacier river and one from the sea. We were a confluence.

While human bodies are good at sensation, they really are garbage when it comes to feeling united with another being. Sex is a struggle to feel a connection. It’s a fight, a ‘please let me feel closer to you. Please let me know you. Please let me get inside your head’ and inevitably the ‘oh that feels nice. This struggle is nice’. But discarding the body and overlapping into your beloved’s essence is the end of that struggle. It’s the finish line, the top of the mountain. The scenario where two can actually become one instead of a thirty second little death pulsating in an isolated body.

Delving into each other was the same rapture of two ocean waves meeting. The shattering of white capped surf surging and breaking. The dizzying vortex of liquid swirling, dredging the stones and sand of the sea floor. On Earth, the oceans contend with gravity, but in this state we were a violent spiral contending only with ourselves. Our intermingling was similar to kickstarting a new star; burning; energy expanding; radiating; condensing tightly into molten metals.

There were many emotions to sort through. Six thousand years of individual memories and the attributing opinions about each one of them to share. Whole libraries of thought falling into each other. Ships crashing, wood everywhere, and then came the feelings. Unlike sharing a calm moment through a kiss on the lips, a mere crumb of sensation, this was eating two epoch long buffets in a single bite. Overwhelming but ecstatic. 

After the feelings, came the yearning. We yearned for the process to reach it’s inevitable end. Even in this joining there was a peak to mount. There was to be a climax to all this frothing, and it needed to be reached. More and more information was being churned thickly, pounded into existence. Being born hurts if any animal has the memory of it. All the organization needed to realign all the atoms into all the cells that make up a single walking, talking thing is a damn miracle. Our inevitable orgasm was breached as a single entity. It took a seeming eternity to remember we were a being that had dimensional presence. A heavy coin lodged in a divot on the blanket of all time.

‘Well that was a thing. This is a thing.’ both our voices echoed. 

‘Beautiful.’ It was that simple.

‘This means something theologically, doesn’t it. Demon and angel doing this?’

We didn’t have an answer to our own question. We had done it after all. We were actively, doing  _ it _ . There were so many preventions in place to guard against this...kind of thing. Were the preventions mostly social and nothing else? ‘Demon bad. Angel good. Don’t touch that button. Don’t open those gates. Spooky territory.’ We both had an inkling that this should definitely be scary, but instead, avoidant to the core, we got distracted by ourselves.

It was the memories and the small moments together that we began reviewing one at a time, tiny precious moments each. Before the war, when Crowley was an angel, and the painful abandonment of God, we mourned together. The garden of Eden: Aziraphale’s surprise and concern mixing with Crowley’s elation and interest. The slow creeping expression of ‘what-we-shall-not-call-love’ for the next six thousand years reflected in every kernel of interaction. The shattering kiss in Rome, the Arrangement kiss in France, the greetings during the Renaissance, the touch over aqua vitae, the annoyance during our fight, and so on, all these moments marched past our mutual consideration. We could finally have the full fascinating knowledge of what we carried alone within our tiny, insignificant human forms.

Ultimately it was a bit self-masturbatory. And while it felt fantastic to be one hundred percent seen and to have full access to the other’s long history, the fun part was the merging itself. The whole shared introspection was therapeutic but felt more like an infinitely long cuddle. The part where we stroke each other’s sweat drenched skin and whisper loving words into cheeks and mouth corners. It would be something we’d revisit. How could we not want to do this again? We wondered if the pulling apart would be equally interesting, so unanimously, we gave it a shot.

It was a bit too easy. We organized ourselves back apart with relative ease. If we encountered a piece of one or the other that we couldn’t parse, we would share it equally and get on with the process. Slowly, we poured ourselves back into our celestial containers. Slipping on our occult or ethereal underwear. Closing the gates once again.

I saw myself, we...er I saw Crowley now. Crowley was coils and coils of scales spiraling like ink blots. Sharp like a sword, but inviting as a red center of a rose to a bee. Haunting, like a demon should be, but gorgeous. Mind-bendingly rich and hypnotizing. No wonder he was so good at tempting people hiding this inside his corporeal form.

I awoke with a start. Coming back to my body left an odd taste in my mouth. I desperately wanted a glass of water, but first, I looked at Crowley on the other side of the bed. He looked equally flabbergasted, and…”you’ve got dust on you.” Oh dear. He had dust on him too. Then I felt a bit panicked, and threw myself out of bed. I definitely needed a glass of water. 

Everything was dusty in the kitchen. Every fruit in the bowl was unrecognizable and past the state of decomposition where the rot no longer had a smell. I was in a state. I managed to shakily get a few glasses of water in me. Feeling no more quenched, and many times more panicked, Crowley came stumbling out of the bedroom. “My phone was dead, angel, but I...I miracled my phone on, and you’re not going to believe this, but...well we were doing... _ that _ for a very long time.” He was manic.

“How long?” I croaked. The empty water glass clasped in my hand like a rosary. 

He laughed unbelieving, “uh...well…two years.”

“Oh good God.” I fumbled at the faucet to get yet another glass of water.

“I actually want one of those too.” Crowley crowded me at the sink. The human contact soothed my panic back to manageable. We drank in a pensive, heavy silence. At length, Crowley contributed. “You know, it’s actually not that bad. I’ve slept longer than this on accident.”

“Is that why your plants are fine?” I had noticed while Crowley drank his water that all the potted plants in the cottage looked green and mostly unblemished. Through the kitchen window the garden was blooming in the afternoon sun. I distantly wondered if the neighbors had noticed our long absence. I laughed nervously. My psyche cracked.

“I wager you actually know the answer to that now.” 

And in my Crowley memories, I did. I, he, had miracled them perpetually watered for the possibility that he failed to wake up for an untold period of time. “Ah. I do  _ actually  _ know. That’s bonkers.”

He smiled with all his teeth. The empty glass he was holding clacking on the countertop. “Angel, did it take merging with me to finally get you caught up to the 21st century slang?”

“You are handling this far too well.” I groused. “But now that you mention it. I do suddenly want a change of footwear. Maybe a sneaker.” Who had I become!? What an uncommon thought.

“Well then.” Crowley snapped his fingers and the dust, house-wide, vanished. “Let’s open all the windows on this beautiful day, air the place out. Get you fed. I’m actually peckish for once. That must be your doing. And go shopping for shoes. We should probably use the London door. Better selection there and all.”

I grabbed his arm abruptly. It was very impermeable. Our minds were quite our own again and so were our frustratingly solid bodies. “We should probably talk about what just happened.” My thumb slipped over the fine hairs of his forearm, too tangible, very uncelestial. “It feels strange to be without you like...”

Thankfully, he dropped his debonair attitude and suddenly mirrored my own expression, bereft. He laced his arms behind my back and leaned his forehead to my neck. “It hurts a bit, yeah.” His human heart beating away against mine. 

I clung to him. “Yes. I hope...we can do that again.” He kissed my neck. I hoped in agreement. “Maybe set a timer, next time though? The neighbors will talk if we keep disappearing for two years at a time, if they haven’t already.”

“A timer? More like an interdimensional fog horn.” He muttered comfortably from my neck. “That ought to get the neighbors talking.”

My stomach grumbled. I frowned at the interruption. It was not welcome. While angels don’t need food, I had trained my body to expect it. “Ah, you mentioned food.”

Crowley peeled back. “That I did, angel, that I did. Let’s get outside and see what the world has been up to? Two years is a long time for humans after all. I’m sure they’ve gotten into plenty of trouble without us.”

I couldn’t help looking up into his fantastic serpent eyes. My love for him was so present, so in the now, that I felt giddily exposed in our kitchen wearing dusty pajamas, so frighteningly my own self. Regardless, life rolls on. I was excited to see what came next with Crowley at my side. “And I hope plenty of good too.” 


End file.
